


empty chairs at empty tables

by christinchen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: picfor1000, Gen, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinchen/pseuds/christinchen
Summary: Sometimes it hits him,  like a punch in the gut. It’s like being suddenly dropped into freezing water. It makes his chest hurt, makes him feel like he can barely breathe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for [picfor1000](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/) (picture: [singular by Hana Rachel](https://www.flickr.com/photos/hanarae/3594295176/))

Sometimes it hits him, like a punch in the gut. It’s like being suddenly dropped into freezing water. It makes his chest hurt, makes him feel like he can barely breathe. 

He remembers that day, standing in the entrance to the Great Hall. After it had all been over. The thought still not properly sinking in. He remembers the sobs of people all around him. He remembers the sad, defeated look on McGonagall’s face when she read a long, long list of names two days later. 

He remembers how long it took for the world to get back to something resembling normal. But never quite the way it had been before. People hugged each other longer now. Held on tighter. Everyone had come together a little closer. 

The first year back at Hogwarts had been difficult. They all had nightmares. They all had woken up in the middle of the night, screaming, shaking, sweating. Some worse than others. Some just a few weeks others all year. 

He remembers walking down the stairs from the dorms they had placed all 8th year students into. The fire would always be burning. There would always be someone sitting in the chairs already. Still in their pyjamas, wrapped up in a blanket. Sometimes most of them, other nights just a few students. As the time went on he number got lower and lower. People got better, dealt with their memories and their demons. 

As the months went by there would only be one person left for Harry to spend the night with. To sit in silence with until the sun came up and the sounds of life returned to the castle. Making them both feel that little rush of relief that came from knowing but never feeling quite sure. 

There is a difference in knowing the sun will come up and seeing the sun come up. Feeling the warmth of it hit your skin. And on nights like tonight, nineteen years later, Harry finds himself slowly walking down the stairs of his dark house. His wife and children asleep, as he lights the fireplace and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. It’s old and worn, knitted years ago by Molly Weasley. 

He sits and waits, staring into the flames, willing them to show a flicker of green. They haven’t done in years, and yet he hopes. Stupidly hopes. 

He thinks back to the times when the flames had turned green. When he had stepped through the fireplace, sat down on a different sofa and had silently stared into the flames until the sun came up. He remembers how it had happened less and less once James was born, had almost completely stopped by the time Al came. 

Empty chairs at empty tables, he thinks. Then lets his head fall back against the headrest with a sigh. “Empty chairs at empty tables,” he murmurs under his breath. 

“Sounds like a sad excuse for a party,” comes a voice from right in front of him, from the bright green flames of the fireplace. 

“Fucking hell,” Harry curses, “you scared the crap out of me.”  
It only earns him a quiet chuckle. The other man quietly let himself fall down to sit next to Harry. He doesn’t have a knit blanket. Though he’s dressed in a robe over his pyjamas and slippers on his bare feet. 

They sit in silence for a while. Harry periodically glancing over to check that he had not in fact imagined the other man walking into his living room through his fireplace. That he hadn’t just vanished into thin air. 

“Why tonight?” Harry asks after a moment. 

“I don’t know,” is the softly spoken answer he gets. “I don’t know. Tonight just felt…” he trails off, falling into silence. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees equally soft, as if speaking louder would break the moment. 

Tonight had felt different. Harsher somehow. The deaths of those lost in the battle had felt more painful. The memories in his mind fresher. It was the anniversary of the final battle, Harry knew that, but nineteen years seemed like an odd number to get emotional about. But he figured maybe emotions and memories didn’t particularly care about even numbers. 

“I kept thinking about the year back at Hogwarts, after… you know, after. About sitting in front of the fire, waiting for the sun to rise,” he pauses. “With you.”

He gets a quiet chuckle for this. 

“You and me. Who would have thought?” his voice sounds odd as he says it, Harry thinks, but he can’t quite place what is off about it. 

“Draco?” he asks gently. 

“We were something like… friends back then, weren’t we?” he sounds cautious as he says it. “I don’t remember how… why we stopped, what happened.”

“Life,” Harry answers. “Life happened. We got busy. We had kids. James got old enough to notice me disappearing at night, old enough to ask question.”

He sees Draco nod next to him. 

They’re silent for a while. Just sitting and staring into the flames. They had been friends of sorts, Harry thought to himself. It had never quite been like the friendship he shared with his other friends. They had never talked much. Hadn’t really seemed to have much in common, except for their bad dreams and insomnia. 

“I should go,” Draco finally says after a long moment, turns to leave into the flames again.

“The sun isn’t up yet,” Harry isn’t sure if it’s just a statement or a plea to ask him to stay just a little longer. 

“It will be soon enough though,” Draco tells him and smiles. Full of promise and full of hope. Making the darkness of doubt in Harry’s heart lift. The night will end and the sun will come up.

“I know.” He watches the flames flicker bright green before diminishing. 

“I know,” he whispers into his empty living room. By the time the first rays of sunshine hit the windows Harry is already back in bed, fast asleep.


End file.
